


It Takes a Losers Club

by babybloo



Series: Nurtureverse [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Daddy!Richie, Diapers, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Live, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Established Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Mentioned Georgie Denbrough, Mike Hanlon & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris Lives, Wetting, caregiver!Ben, caregiver!Bev, caregiver!Bill, caregiver!Mike, caregiver!Richie, caregiver!Stanley, diaper change, little!Eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybloo/pseuds/babybloo
Summary: It takes a village to raise a baby. For an adult regressing to a baby, however, it takes a Losers Club.With Richie going on a five day business trip, the group has declared it the perfect opportunity to meet little Eddie. For one day and night each, Mike, Stan, Bill, Ben, and Bev will all get an opportunity to "babysit" a regressed Eddie. Eddie, having never taken such a massive step without Richie, is fearful. Taking place over the course of one week, these seven chapters will follow little Eddie throughout this experience.Perhaps this experience is just what Eddie needs to learn to trust his friends, and maybe even himself, among other lessons.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: Nurtureverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179215
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	1. Sunday: Literal Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know exactly what happened, but the original posting of this story got deleted :( So I'm reposting! Please leave Kudos and Comments; I'm so sad I lost the ones from the previous posting.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Eddie murmurs, shifting his position beside Richie on their bed.

“Funny, that’s what your mom said last time we-” Richie’s quip is abruptly cut off when he spots what his husband’s eyes are trained on: Eddie’s burgundy suitcase, packed for the week. 

Eddie can’t even bring himself to chide Richie, not even with the slightest eye roll. He just grips his stuffed bunny, Silky, in tight fists and rocks back and forth. His eyes are locked on his lock screen, shining a clear text box labeled with Mike Hanlon’s name. 

‘Hey Eddie, see you tomorrow! I can’t wait to babysit you, haha :)’

He can’t help but keep his eyes trained on one specific word: babysit. 

It’s a fitting word, Eddie supposes. Mike and his four other close friends would essentially be “babysitting” him while Richie is in New York City for some TV interviews. Yet, the word is strange to apply to himself. 

To Eddie Kaspbrak, there is no concept more foreign than that of babysitting. Being babysat requires one’s mother to get up from her rocking chair and leave her precious, helpless baby with a heathen who would surely mess up his medication schedule and kill him within the first minute. And that happens to be another foreign concept for Eddie Kaspbrak. 

That’s not to say foreign concepts can’t be familiarized. Richie Tozier has left Eddie no room to deny this. The raunchy comedian seems to have made a life goal out of familiarizing Eddie with yet another foreign concept: taking steps out of his comfort zone. Baby steps. 

“Literal baby steps!”

“Hmm?” Eddie blinks and looks back up at Richie, snapped out of his rumination. His eyebrows are furrowed at the seemingly arbitrary statement. There must have been some sort of context to that statement, but Eddie hadn’t heard it. 

“That’s what this all is! Literal baby steps! See?” Richie swipes Silky and dangles her by the ears. 

Eddie sighs at the statement, prompting a pout from Richie, “Aww, c’mon Eds, it wasn’t that bad of a pun!”

It definitely was. But that has nothing to do with Eddie’s reaction. The “baby steps” phrase from Richie never fails to earn a wince and sigh from Eddie. Richie’s idea of baby steps are ones taken with his men’s 11 shoe size feet. 

Apparently, a definitive baby step is texting the rest of their friend group, explaining Eddie’s age regression. To Eddie, spending an hour typing and deleting and retyping in his Notes App, followed by an additional hour of waiting for the group chat to spam him with messages, is anything but a baby step. And staying with each of his friends for one day and night to acquaint them with little Eddie is even less so. 

A hand then lightly grazes Eddie’s back, “Hey, Eds, it’s gonna be okay. They’re all super on board with it, they wouldn't've agreed to my idea if they weren’t. Think about it, Eds, they all said yes to my idea. My idea. That, like, never fucking happens.”

Eddie can’t help but snicker a bit at that. For a split second, he forgets that Richie’s idea is something that he still can’t, for the life of him, comprehend why all his friends agreed to.

“There we go, don’t be upsetti, Eddie Spaghetti! They already know, so most of the hard part’s over with, yeah?” Richie lightly shakes Eddie’s shoulders, “Baby steps Eds, remember. Literal…” He reaches for Silky.

Eddie tosses Silky off the bed with a smirk, “Nope! You are absolutely not making that stupid pun again! Once is enough, Richard!”

Richie lets out a gasp of mock offense, “Stupid? How dare you call my pun stupid! I get paid to do comedy, y’know!” 

“I’d like to see you make that pun onstage! Let’s see how much applause you get,” Eddie laughs, giving Richie a shove. 

“Oh, I’ll get applause, alright! Like this!” Richie claps his hands right next to Eddie’s ear, snickering and leaning closer to his husband. 

Eddie squeals and attempts to push Richie’s hands away, “Fuck, Rich, you’re gonna make me deaf! There goes our health insurance!”

He throws himself into Richie’s arms with a laugh. As the pair calm down, Eddie looks up at the face of the man holding him. The man who makes him laugh, makes him love, makes him trust. Oh, how Richie makes him trust. 

Eddie would’ve never done any of this if he didn’t trust Richie. He wouldn’t have tried age regression, he wouldn’t have let Richie care for him, he wouldn’t have told his friends. And he most definitely wouldn’t have been doing this “babysitting” idea. 

He would’ve just spent the rest of his life wanting to do those things. 

Sitting up and crossing his legs, Eddie’s eyes glaze over as the truth of that statement hits him. 

Through all his baby steps, Richie has been holding his hand. Going at Eddie’s pace, but keeping him walking. Without Richie to support him, Eddie falls on his ass and stays seated.

A whip crack vibrates through the air of the massive master bedroom. However, much to Richie Tozier’s disappointment as he would say, there is no whip in sight. The sound is produced by a sweater, being held by the sleeves, flung towards the arm of a distracted Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie yelps and flinches. His head darts towards the source of the lash, said source being no mystery for the petite man. Shooting a glare towards his husband, Eddie demands, “What the hell was that for?”

Richie buries his mouth in the sweater with a loud snort, “Sorry Spaghetti, just making sure you’re still breathing!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but his frown slips up to a grin. Staying annoyed at Richie is a mere impossibility, a thankless cause if he’s ever seen one. Eddie sits down and gives Richie a shove, earning him a playful tackle from the latter. 

Now pinned to the bed, Eddie turns his head to see his cell phone. 

After laughter dies down and hands stop scuffling, Richie follows Eddie’s gaze. He smiles, “Aww, you see Eds? Mike can’t wait to see you! You have nothing to worry about, they already love little you!”

Eddie climbs into Richie’s lap, shaking his head, “Rich, there’s a big difference between hearing about it, and actually watching me be little. I can’t really predict what their reactions will look like this week.” 

“I can! I predict they’re gonna love you, maybe even almost as much as I love you!”

Eddie can’t help but smile at Richie’s enthusiasm. He plays with Richie’s fingers, “I hope so.”

“I know so!” Richie hums, kissing the top of Eddie’s head. 

Eddie sighs softly. He appreciates Richie’s sentiment, but although Eddie can hope, he can’t know. He’ll have to stand up and take the steps to find out on his own. Without Richie holding his hand along the way, to keep him from falling. Eddie can’t imagine taking these steps without Richie present to hold his hand, but he’ll do it. 

As much as he loves Richie, Eddie wants to walk on his own. 

“Remember, Eds, baby steps,” Richie croons, resting his chin on Eddie’s head. 

Eddie squeezes Richie’s fingers, then unravels his grip, “Literal baby steps.”


	2. Monday: Mike's Mini Zoo

Eddie didn’t hug Richie goodbye. He gave Richie a multitude of “I love yous” and “I’ll miss yous.” He gave Richie a goodbye card he had drawn that morning. He gave Richie kisses on each of his cheeks, forehead, and lips, fluttering his eyes closed when Richie did the same. But he did not give Richie a hug; Eddie didn’t trust himself to do so. If he hugged Richie, he would never let go. A crowbar would be needed to pry Eddie off his daddy. 

As the already-regressed Eddie stands on the doorstep of Mike Hanlon’s quaint bungalow, he wraps his arms around himself. He tries to pretend that his slim arms are Richie’s large, burly ones, giving him a massive bear hug. Forgoing a goodbye hug was a mistake; now Eddie will have to wait five whole days to be hugged by Daddy. Would any of the other Losers give Eddie a hug? 

Eddie’s trim finger grazes the brass doorbell. With closed eyes and a deep breath, he pushes the button. It lets out the usual ding-dong, but Eddie only hears the ding. The dong is blocked out by two sprinting dogs, barking in an alto-soprano harmony. The alto is a beige and black great dane, flanked by the soprano, a sandy Pomeranian. 

Eddie shrieks and jumps back when the duo pounces on the window. If Richie was here, he’d pull Eddie into a hug and bark back at the dogs to make him laugh. Since Richie isn’t here, all Eddie can do is step back and hope the window is constructed from some sort of titanium glass. 

Peering into the window, Eddie can see Mike frantically catching up to the dogs. 

Mike grips onto the great dane’s collar before swinging the door wide open, “Eddie! Hi! Come on in! Sorry about these two…” The great dane attempts to wriggle out of Mike’s grip, prompting him to tug on the collar, “Scooby, focus. Focus.” 

“Hi, Mike,” Eddie takes a step towards the interior, but is stopped by the Pomeranian. The tiny dog jumps on Eddie’s leg with a fierce bark. Eddie tries to shake off the Pomeranian, letting out an involuntary scream. This Pomeranian may not look exactly like the one he and Richie saw in Neibolt, but a little part of him still expects it to go feral at any second. 

“M-Mike…help…” Eddie squeaks meekly. 

Mike looks down at Eddie’s leg, “Oh shoot, sorry…” He lifts the hyper Pomeranian with his free hand, “C’mere Princess, let’s leave Eddie alone,” he coos. 

Eddie’s shoulders slump with a relieved sigh. “Thanks…” He rolls his suitcase through the front door. 

Mike has to kick the door closed since both of his hands are restraining the dogs, “So sorry about these two, I’m still working on training them.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie mumbles, following Mike and the dogs down the vestibule. Hyperactivity aside, Eddie isn’t fazed by these unfamiliar dogs. He’s used to meeting new animals at Mike’s house; he seems to adopt a new pet every month. Still, he’s never seen Mike adopt dogs before. Just cats, fish, and a coop of chickens. Eddie’s curiosity spins a multitude of questions for Mike, which could serve as perfect ice breakers. 

Yet, Eddie doesn’t ask a single one, instead opting to sit on the living room couch without a word. He stares down at his lap and wrings his hands together. The dogs have silenced their barking, leaving a pregnant silence that Eddie can’t stand. He wants to fill the silence, but can’t bring himself to. He’s afraid of, well, sounding too little. Mike probably knows Eddie is already regressed, Eddie assumes. But Eddie’s regressed state would be obvious from the second he opens his mouth. 

Mike flops down on his loveseat with a sigh, “Those two are quite the handful, I hope you’ll go more easy on me!” He chuckles softly. 

Eddie nods to Mike’s statement. He supposes he can talk a little; one or two word answers can’t be that bad, “I will.” 

“Thank you Eddie, I appreciate that,” Mike offers the shorter man a small smile, “You know, these two aren’t the only new additions. I also got a kitten.”

Eddie immediately darts his head up from his lap, “Kitten?” 

“Yeah, a kitten! She’s a sweet little girl, you wanna meet her?”

“Yes please,” Eddie exclaims with frantic nodding. After Mike excuses himself to get the kitten, Eddie takes some deep breaths and stiffens his posture. He’s not at home with Daddy, Eddie reminds himself. He’s at Mike’s house, with Mike. Sure, Mike doesn’t seem to be judging him too much, but he certainly would if Eddie let himself go. Restraining himself is essential. 

When Mike returns, however, this proves to be easier said than done. 

In Mike’s arms is a tiny orange kitten, who couldn’t have been any bigger than Eddie’s shoe. Eddie gasps and holds his arms out, wiggling his fingers.

“This is Sweet Potato,” Mike whispers, gently placing the kitten on Eddie’s lap. “Say hi to Eddie, Sweet Potato.”

Sweet Potato lets out a tiny mewl. And with that, Eddie’s self-restraint flies right out the window.

“Hi Sweet Potato! Hi Baby!” Eddie hums, using a distinctly delicate voice. It isn’t a full-on baby voice, but it’s enough to indicate a regressed Eddie. Eddie strokes his middle and index fingers across the kitten’s back, “Cute little kitten, so soft…” he babbles. 

When Sweet Potato starts purring, Eddie squeals and lets a grin cover his face, “She likes me! Sweet Potato likes me!”

“That she does! You’re so sweet to her,” Mike coos. 

Eddie’s breath hitches, realizing what he just did. He looks up at Mike with wide eyes. His friend sports a grin matching his own. Eddie looks back down at Sweet Potato, trying to decipher whether or not the grin is genuine. As much as he wants it to be, Eddie can’t be sure. Mike is a kind person, the kind of person to fake a grin for the sake of a friend. 

Mike stands up from the loveseat, “Hey, do you wanna see her favorite places to be pet?”

Eddie gives Mike a simple nod, avoiding any eye contact, “Sure.” 

Eddie glances up at Mike. He notices Mike’s grin faltering slightly, much to his growing confusion. A confusion which would remain, as Eddie purses his lips to trap his words. 

Mike slowly takes a seat beside Eddie on the couch. He slides away from Eddie and crosses his legs. Eddie sighs and lifts his hands away from Sweet Potato. If Mike doesn’t want to sit close to him, he definitely won’t want to touch Eddie’s hands. Hands which have been turned into Crayola canvases, covered in marker stains from making Richie’s goodbye card. Of course he forgot to wash it off; Eddie has to bite back a second sigh at his own carelessness. Between the babyish voice and the childish hands, Eddie can’t be making a positive first impression. No wonder Mike is keeping his distance. 

“...Her favorite place, though, is right here, where the jawbone connects to the skull,” Mike hums. 

Eddie blinks and shakes his head slightly. He peers back down at Sweet Potato, whose jawbone is being tapped by Mike’s nimble finger. His mind snaps back to reality, remembering why Mike sat down next to him in the first place. Not a moment before Mike slips his hand away, Eddie finally places a thumb on Sweet Potato’s cheek and rubs small, soothing circles. The kitten’s purring grows louder and deeper. This is already enough to make Eddie squirm, but when she nuzzles her cheek against Eddie’s thumb, it’s game over. 

Soon enough, Eddie is mimicking the kitten’s purrs. He lightly blows between his tongue and palate, taking breaks to breathe. The breaks are filled with giggles, cutesy and light little twinkles. By his third break, Eddie’s light giggles are joined by hearty chuckles. Eddie’s stomach drops to his foot, but he still looks up to confirm the source. And just like that, the giggles are swallowed. 

Eddie shifts in his seat, and accidentally bumps his knee against Mike’s. He hadn’t even noticed Mike moving closer, let alone that their legs were touching. 

“No, Eddie, don’t stop! Your purrs are so cute, you sound just like Sweet Potato. She stopped purring, Eddie, maybe she’ll do it again if you do it.” 

Eddie shakes his head, feeling his cheeks burn up. As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough. He buries his face in his hands with a whine. 

“Why not? Are you...okay,” Mike’s voice quivers at the final word. 

Eddie experimentally peaks up from his hands, and sees Mike grinning like earlier. This grin, however, isn’t anything like the prior ones. His previous grins were shaped in a perfect arch, crinkling his eyes. This one, on the other hand, is flat and shows off his teeth. It looks quite, well, forced. It isn’t even a question this time. 

Eddie gives Mike a single nod, keeping his eyes trained on the shiny grin. 

“Are you sure?”

Eddie nods again and watches the forced grin run out of force. He looks away from Mike and hears his friend sigh. Eddie lets out a sigh of his own; Mike is definitely done with him. Sweet Potato hops off Eddie’s lap and skitters away; she’s done. So Eddie supposes he’s done, too. 

However, Scooby and Princess are definitely not done. The pair scrambles back into the living room and pounce onto the couch. Princess selects Eddie as her main target, throwing herself against Eddie’s chest. Eddie screams and flinches away from the heavily panting Pomeranian. Her hot breath wafts in front of Eddie’s face.

Yep, Eddie’s definitely more of a cat person. 

Then, the air in front of Eddie’s face cools once again. The Pomeranian has stopped panting, and instead opts for licking Eddie’s collarbone. This elicits a gasp from the regressor. As Richie knows all too well, Eddie’s collarbone is an extremely ticklish area. 

Eddie bursts out into laughter, trying to push Princess off. Princess is quite insistent, however, and latches on to Eddie’s shirt. 

“Princess!” Eddie roars, “That tickles, Princess!”

“Watcha doing, Princess,” Mike chuckles, “You giving Eddie tickles?”

Princess’s tickles finally prohibit Eddie from silencing himself. All Eddie can do is look over at Mike. Mike’s grin has returned, this time forming a perfect arch. 

Mike clearly can’t force a believable smile; his prior attempt proves that claim. So, this one, as well as his other ones, are real. They have to be. Otherwise, they would be teeth-flashing flatlines. 

So, even after Princess stops licking him, Eddie lets himself laugh. He lifts Princess up and nuzzles his nose against hers, “Silly Princess! Silly, silly doggy!”

Princess wriggles in Eddie’s arms. Mike gently pushes Scooby off the couch, “I think Princess is getting antsy, how about we take her into the yard to play?”

Eddie squeals at the idea, “Yeah! Outside!” He darts up from the couch. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, but Eddie barely pays them notice. He is too focused on watching Princess’s little legs skitter across the carpet. 

Eddie feels an arm sling around his shoulders, “Princess loves to play tag, she’d love a super fast runner like you!”

Eddie leans against Mike, hesitantly letting himself get closer to his friend, “Gonna tag Princess! Go now?”

“Yeah, we can totally go now!” Mike whistles, “Princess, Scooby, come on! Let’s go outside!” 

Mike leads Eddie outside, with Scooby and Princess on their heels. On their walk to the yard, Eddie spots each of Mike’s other indoor pets: two old grumpy cats, and an aquarium with too many fish for Eddie to count. Eddie tries to recall how many fish Mike has, wanting to count all of Mike’s pets. 

The two of them are outside before Eddie can remember. Princess and Scooby immediately dash through the backyard. 

Mike pulls his arm off Eddie, “Alright Eddie, go chase them! Go tag Princess! Run!”

Eddie’s feet stay planted in place. Despite his earlier excitement, Eddie simply can’t run. He’s just now learning to take baby steps; how could Mike expect him to run? He looks up at Mike, unable to stop himself from searching for any sign of disapproval. 

Mike, however, gives Eddie no time to search. “Look, I’ll do it too! I chase Scooby, and you chase Princess!” Before Eddie can say anything, Mike rushes off to chase Scooby. 

Mike runs after Scooby up and down the yard. He yells after the great dane, “I’m gonna get you, Scooby! I’m gonna get you!” He isn’t anywhere close to getting Scooby, but his squeals and laughter continue. 

Eddie watches Mike, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He can tell Mike is trying to get on his level, being carefree and silly. And he actually seems like he’s having fun. Like, a lot of fun. 

So, when Mike calls out, “Join me, Eddie!”

Eddie does just that. He runs towards an idle Princess, who immediately jumps up and dashes off when Eddie gets close. Chasing the dog through the plush grass, Eddie throws his arms up and laughs, “Gonna tag Princess! Princess, tag!”

“You go Eddie, catch that dog!” Mike runs by Eddie and high fives him. 

Eddie squeals and whips his head back to look at Mike. He gasps when he sees his friend doubling over and panting harshly. 

“Mikey!” Eddie forgoes his chase of Princess in favor of running towards Mike, “Keep doing Mike! Gotta tag Scooby!”

Mike shakes his head, “Nah, my spleen can’t take it…” He begins to slump to the ground. 

“Yes it can!” Eddie insists. He grabs Mike’s arm and tries to pull him up. Unfortunately, little Eddie hasn’t considered the improbability of a 5’9 twink overpowering a 6'4 man who, in Richie’s words, is built like a linebacker. 

Mike pulls Eddie down onto the plush grass along with him. Eddie throws himself back onto the grass and laughs, still hanging onto Mike. He turns his head towards Mike and sees him wearing his widest grin of the day. 

The two friends lie and laugh as the dogs flock around them. Eddie lets out a little squeak when Princess licks his cheek, “Ahh! Princess!” He pets the small puppy’s head. 

Perhaps he is a dog person after all. Or a Pomeranian person, at the very least.

Their laughter turns to a silence, a silence that becomes too prolonged for Eddie’s liking. He asks Mike a question, letting the words come out as they will, “How many pets do you have now, Mikey?”

Mike sways with Eddie in his arms, “Let’s see, I have two dogs, three cats, seven fish, and three hens...so, fifteen!”

Eddie gasps, “Fifteen! Mikey, you got a mini zoo!”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Mike lets out a gentle belly laugh, “You like the mini zoo, Eddie!” 

Eddie pulls Princess to his chest, “I love the mini zoo!” 

“That’s a relief,” Mike wipes some sweat off his forehead, “I was worried.”

“Worried?” Eddie furrows his brow, “Why?”

With a sheepish lip bite, Mike admits, “Well, you were looking kinda uncomfortable earlier. So I was worried about you not liking it here. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to make a good first impression on little you.”

There is a pregnant pause.

Then, Eddie lets out a tiny giggle. 

“Why are you giggling,” Mike asks, his tone filled with amusement. 

“Silly!” Eddie’s shoulders bob up and down with each little giggle. 

“What’s silly!”

“Me!” 

“Oh!” Mike chuckles softly as he stands back up, “Well, in that case, come here Silly Boy.”

Mike pulls Eddie up on his feet and into a hug. 

“I guess I had nothing to worry about after all,” Mike hums, swaying with Eddie in his arms. 

Eddie throws his arms around Mike with a tight squeeze, burying his face in the bigger man’s chest. Now it’s Eddie’s turn to curl his mouth up into an arch. 

“Me either.”


	3. Tuesday: Stan-Stan the Bird-Man

When Mike dropped Eddie off in front of Stan’s apartment complex, Eddie was ready to talk. Oh, how ready to talk he was. Eddie knew it was fine to use his words, even if said words were childish in nature. For his next babysitter, he was all set to talk without needing to be coaxed. 

Little did Eddie know that Stan would be the one not talking. 

After polite pleasantries were exchanged, Stan simply told Eddie that his rental apartment was disorganized, since he is in the process of packing to move into his newly-furnished house. Therefore, he and Eddie will be going to the park. And that was that. The extent of Stan’s interactions ended right there. 

Now, Eddie sits in the passenger’s seat of Stan’s car, left to stew in the agonizing silence. It’s a paradoxical experience for Eddie, as car rides are supposed to be anything but mute. If Eddie isn’t in the mood to fill the silence in his and Richie’s car, his daddy will sure as hell do it for him. The car ride with Mike was filled with idle chit chat, but chit chat nonetheless. Of course, the idea of starting a conversation himself doesn’t evade Eddie. But while the silence is intimidating, filling it seems terrifying. 

Eddie never thought that the end of a car ride would grant him one of the biggest reliefs of his life. And yet, Eddie feels himself relax along with the sedan once Stan turns off its engine. Stan climbs out of the driver’s seat and shuts the door without so much as an audible breath. 

It’s not until he opens Eddie’s door and offers his hand that he finally graces the petite man with a phrase, “You ready?” 

Eddie takes Stan’s hand, beaming up at his friend as he’s pulled out of the car, “Yep! Super ready!”

“Good,” Stan merely replies. 

Eddie’s face falls at Stan’s one-word answer. It’s an answer that can’t be replied to, an answer that ends a conversation. Though to be fair, Eddie can’t really imagine any possibilities stemming from a conversation over whether Eddie is ready. Perhaps it would have allowed them to decide what exactly Eddie is ready for, so they wouldn’t be left to wander aimlessly up the concrete path. 

Eddie takes the clunkiest stomps he can muster whilst remaining discreet. It cuts his walking speed in half, but since it creates enough noise to drown out the silence, Eddie persists. He takes a quick glance up at Stan’s face, searching for any visible emotion, but Stan seems to have mastered the art of the poker face. Eddie can’t help but let out a small sigh; he supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised. 

Out of all his friends, Stan’s willingness to participate in the babysitting plan was by far the most shocking. As Eddie trains his eyes on Stan, his shock is only reinforced. Stan’s leather loafers are not ideal for running around the park with Eddie. His crisp white polo shirt and khakis wouldn’t survive the tiniest sliver of contact with the grass, dirt, or dust. Neither would his perfectly manicured hands, which make Eddie wish he had pockets to shove his marker-stained, nail-bitten hands into. 

Nothing about Stan screams “babysitter.” Nothing about Stan even whispers “babysitter.” Eddie doubts Stan has the faintest clue on what to do with him. In return, Eddie doesn’t know what to do with Stan either. 

Thus, the uncomfortable silence remains, leaving Eddie to clomp his way across the concrete. Somehow, moving twice as slowly with these heavy steps is twice as tiring. At this point, the regressor would take any excuse to stop walking. 

Hearing a bird chirp is as good an excuse as any. 

Eddie stops in his tracks and looks around for the source of the chirp. He tilts his head down when the chirp repeats, revealing a tiny bird scuttling across the grass. Eddie gasps at the sight. This isn’t one of the generic brown birds or pigeons Eddie always sees around Los Angeles; this bird is bright yellow, with black feathers on its wings and crown. He kneels down to get a closer look, only for the bird to fly away. Eddie pouts and crosses his arms. 

Suddenly, Eddie hears a faint chuckle, “The audacity of that bird, huh?”

Eddie darts his head up at Stan, seeing that a tiny smirk has graced the eternal poker face. 

He nods in agreement, thankful for another means to fill the silence, “Rude.” 

“Quite rude indeed. But we can’t fault the little guy too much, he probably got scared. I mean, how would you feel if you were just walking along the grass, and some giant creature came up to you like…” Stan hunches over a kneeling Eddie. 

Eddie giggles; he supposes he can’t really argue with that. “Feel scared. But not now, cause it’s you.” 

Stan’s smirk curls slightly into a small smile, “Well yeah, but most birds and humans aren’t friends like you and I.” He offers Eddie a hand, which Eddie gladly accepts. 

After being pulled back onto his feet, Eddie turns around to walk the other way, Stan wordlessly following. 

However, Eddie decides to beat the silence to the punch, “What kinda bird was that?” 

“A goldfinch,” Stan replies without a moment’s hesitation. “I haven’t seen one of those in quite a while.” 

Eddie’s eyes sparkle in awe of his friend’s bird knowledge, “Woah! Can you name all the birds?”

Stan shrugs, “I mean, I’m not sure about all of them...but I’m certain I can name most of them.”

“Wow!” Eddie looks up at the sky and points at a group of birds flying in a V-formation, “What birds are those?”

A soft chuckle escapes Stan’s lips, “I don’t know, Eddie, they’re too far away for me to see.”

Eddie’s look of awe is replaced by a mischievous smirk. A realization had hit him, a realization too good to keep to himself. He snickers and shoots the smirk towards Stan, “I stumped you!”

Stan scoffs and shakes his head, “You didn’t stump me, those birds were too far away for me to identify them properly. It doesn’t count.”

“Yeah it does,” Eddie retorts, sticking his tongue out at Stan. 

Stan crosses his arms with a hmph, “No it doesn’t.”

“Yeah it does! I stumped you! I stumped the bird man!” Suddenly, an even better realization comes to Eddie, as he remembers a certain word that rhymes with man. Or rather, a certain name. Eddie’s snickers grow into roaring belly laughs. 

“I stumped Stan-Stan the Bird-Man!” 

Stan’s shoulders relax as he looks down at Eddie with a raised brow, “Stan-Stan the Bird-Man? Did Richie make that one up?”

Eddie shakes his head through his giggles, “Nope! Made it up myself!” 

“Oh god, that’s even worse,” Stan lets out an exaggerated sigh, “That means he’s influencing you.”

“It’s a good influence,” Eddie insists, still smiling. 

“Well, that’s pretty debatable,” Stan smirks. 

Eddie opens his mouth to rebuttal, but there’s not really much to debate here. So instead he just responds with, “You’re just mad cause I stumped you!”

“Eddie, you didn’t stump me. I can’t see birds that are flying all the way up there,” He gestures up to the sky, “That’s why I use binoculars when I’m birdwatching. Maybe I shouldn't have left them in the car.” 

As soon as he hears the last sentence, Eddie immediately blurts out, “You have your binoculars? Can we go birdwatching? Please?” He hopes Stan can’t sense the desperation in his voice. He couldn’t help it; he’s just eager to have found a possible activity for them. 

By then, the pair finally approaches Stan's car once again. Stan hums and nods, giving Eddie a small smile, “Yeah, sure. We can go birdwatching. Here, I’ll grab the binoculars, do you want to get the picnic blanket from the trunk?” 

“Okay!” Eddie strides over to the trunk. As the large door slowly ascends, Eddie spots a red and white checkered blanket, folded up into a perfect square. He pulls the blanket out with care, not wanting to ruin its immaculate folded shape. Stan meets him with binoculars in hand. And with that, the pair makes their way back into the park to find the perfect birdwatching location. 

Finding the perfect birdwatching location ends up taking a little more time than Eddie anticipates. According to Stan, this location is one where the clouds are clear and the plants are plentiful. Eddie thought that places like this would be a dime a dozen in a park, but apparently it isn’t so. 

When this perfect location is finally found, Eddie helps Stan spread the picnic blanket atop the grass. He plops down on the blanket as Stan slowly lowers himself down to sit. Eddie looks through the binoculars while Stan fixes up the folded corners of the blanket. 

“Hmm...I don’t see anything yet,” Eddie huffs, staring up at the clear sky through the binoculars. 

“That’s because you’re keeping your eyes on one spot. Try looking around a little,” Stan hums, straightening out his shirt. 

Eddie does as he’s told. He lets the binoculars slowly wander around, then stops on a bulky tree branch. A raspberry-colored bird with brown tipped wings rests on the branch. 

Eddie squeals and bounces in his seat, “I see one! I see one!” He shoves the binoculars in Stan’s hands and points to the bird, “Look at it! It’s on the big tree!”

Stan takes the binoculars and follows Eddie’s finger, “Oh, would you look at that! A purple finch! I’ve never seen one of those before!”

“You haven’t?” Eddie gasps. This has to be the ultimate paradox: Stan-Stan the Bird-Man never having seen a type of bird.

“I haven’t,” Stan confirms, handing Eddie the binoculars. “And now I can add it to my bird log when I get home. Thanks to you.”

Eddie gasps again, his jaw dropping, “Thanks to me?”

Stan laughs this time and gives Eddie a warm smile, “Yes, thanks to you. You can help me put it in the log once we get home, if you’d like to.” 

Eddie nods, beaming as brightly as his growing smile. Of course he’d like to! 

“Gonna find more birds! For the log!” 

Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t find any new birds for Stan’s log. But Stan still praises Eddie for finding a cardinal, a robin, and a group of pigeons. Eddie lets out a happy squeak at each new discovery, and repeats it when Stan praises him. The regressor feels himself relax, letting his shoulders slump and his breathing slow. It seems like he and Stan have finally found their groove. Even if Stan isn’t the babysitting type, he’s still quite caring. Perhaps this will work out better than Eddie thought. These thoughts flowing through Eddie’s head, coupled with the soft breeze rusting the trees, make him more relaxed. 

Much more relaxed. 

Extremely relaxed. 

Perhaps a little too relaxed. 

It takes a while for Eddie to realize he’s wet himself. He’s too busy looking through the binoculars. When he hands them off to Stan, Eddie finally feels a warm, wet sensation covering his crotch. He shifts around, but still feels like he’s sitting in a puddle of water. And that’s when it finally hits him. 

Eddie’s breath gets caught in his throat. His entire face pales and his entire body trembles. Of course this had to happen, of course it did. Right when he’s bonding with Stan. Stan, the clean freak. Peeing your pants definitely isn’t clean. Eddie manages to breathe a little when he remembers that his accident isn’t visible, thanks to his diaper. He decided to wear them during the week for comfort, but still use the toilet. 

Clearly that plan is now, well, in the toilet. 

“Aww, a blue jay! Have you ever seen a blue jay before, Eddie?” 

A chill runs up Eddie’s spine. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his trembles, with very little success. Eddie considers not answering Stan; he’s half sure that if he opens his mouth he’ll vomit. But then again, if he doesn’t answer, Stan would be suspicious. 

“I dunno,” Eddie finally squeaks out, his stomach dropping lower and lower with every single syllable. 

Eddie’s evasion of suspicion turns out null. After hearing Eddie’s voice, Stan puts down the binoculars and finally takes a good look at Eddie. The brunet’s eyes widen at the sight of his charge, “Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?”

Eddie darts his eyes down to his lap, “Nothing, I’m fine…”

“Eddie, you are not fine,” Stan states firmly, “I can tell you are not fine. Tell me what’s wrong, so we can fix it.”

Thick, heavy tears pour down Eddie’s pale cheeks. He knows he can’t avoid the question, but he doesn’t want to fully answer it. So, he softly murmurs, “Have to go to the...to the bathroom.” 

Stan releases a sigh of relief, “Oh, is that it? Well, we can fix that easily. There’s a bathroom right over there,” he points to the triangle-roofed bathroom facility, “Go ahead. I’ll wait for you by the door, if you want.”

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t just walk into the bathroom. “Need my bag…” 

“Your bag? Your white bag? You sure you wanna take it in there?”

“Mhm…” Eddie nods. 

“Umm...okay then, I’ll go get it for you.” 

To be honest, Eddie definitely doesn’t want to take his white Louis Vuitton bag into a park restroom. But that white Louis Vuitton bag also happens to be a diaper bag in disguise, so he has no choice. He’s left himself no choice in this entire matter. 

The next few moments are a blur for Eddie. By the time he manages to ground himself once again, he is half-naked in the single stall public restroom. Eddie takes a glance down at the floor. His pants are around his ankles, the contents of the bag are strewn about. He switches his gaze to his shaking hands. 

Oh yeah, the fresh diaper is in his hands. Despite having cleaned himself up and disposed of the trash a while ago. On the rare instances that Eddie diapers himself, he’d lie on the floor or stand against the wall. But on these rare instances, the floor and walls have never been grimed with green and brown sludge, nor have they been festooned with used toilet paper. 

Two knocks strike against the door, “You alright in there, Eddie?” 

“Yep!” Eddie snaps, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

“Alright, let me know if you need any...erm...help in there,” Stanley replies. 

“I will!”

No, he definitely won’t. 

Eddie has to grip the garment so it won’t slip through his trembling fingers. He slips it up between his legs, holding it in place with his hands on the front and back. As soon as he moves one hand to rip the tape, the diaper begins to drop. He shifts his hand again, but the diaper shifts with it. Eddie’s hands roam all over his garment, being placed in every possible placement. But he can’t tape the diaper without leaving it lopsided, and he can’t straighten the diaper without leaving it untaped. 

A fresh round of tears build up in Eddie’s eyes, thickening and spilling down his red cheeks. He can’t change himself standing in the middle of a room. He would need a third hand. He usually has a third hand. And a fourth. But the third and fourth hands are in New York City. 

Eddie tries shifting his stance around, but it’s no use. He can’t do this without his Daddy. He needs his Daddy. Eddie’s sparkling eyes stay fixed on the door. Perhaps if he stares at the door long enough, it’ll be opened by Richie. He can’t look away. Not even as he continues to adjust his feet on the toilet paper-covered floors. 

Eddie’s foot plants itself atop a piece of the aforementioned paper, then shifts again. The toilet paper slides across the slick floor, making Eddie’s foot slide along with it. Before Eddie can realize what’s happened, he falls on his rear with a loud thump. 

“Eddie!” The door is opened, but not by Richie. 

With a loud shriek, Eddie snatches his bag and slams it on his lap to cover himself. Unfortunately, the regressor is unable to hide any of the other mortifications. And Stan’s eyes seem to be scanning them all. The wipes, the powder, and of course the diaper. 

When Stan has taken in enough of Eddie’s shame, he finally speaks up, “Oh, umm...sorry, I shouldn’t have opened the door, I just got scared at the thud...”

“No, no, s’okay,” Eddie assures, desperate to just end the interaction. “I’m okay! Almost done!”

Eddie waits for Stan to shut the door, so he can continue to fail at diapering himself while Stan projectile vomits. 

That doesn’t quite happen. 

Stan shuts the door. But he shuts the door behind him. 

With featherlight steps, Stan tiptoes around the grime and garbage. He winces at every bit of mess, yet manages to muster out, “What do you need help with?”

Eddie’s breath hitches. Stan didn’t ask him if he needed help; he asked him what he needed help with. Unlike some of his earlier statements, this one begins a conversation. A conversation which Eddie can’t end. 

“Already cleaned up, just gotta put on the...the...” A choked sob cuts Eddie off. He gestures to the garment, “That. Can’t hold and tape.” 

Without hesitation, Stan picks up the diaper and fluffs it, “Okay then, how about you hold it up, and I’ll tape it.” He offers the diaper to Eddie. 

Eddie takes it and nods. He doesn’t want to nod. But he also didn’t want to have an accident, change himself in a disgusting public restroom, fall on his ass, and have Stan see him. By now, Eddie can’t care about what he wants, as long as he can escape the situation. Even if it means Stan will hate him. 

After pulling the diaper back on, Eddie pushes himself up and closes his eyes. The more he can shut out his surroundings, the better. He can’t close his ears, however, so Eddie hears the tapes get ripped and secured. The sound is interrupted by some calm, gentle hums from Stan. Stan’s fingers are nimble, pulling each of the tapes gently but firmly. The job is done before Eddie can even form a full thought. Stan gives Eddie a pat on his diapered rear, making Eddie blush. He pulls up Eddie’s sweatpants, even though he wasn’t asked to. 

“Done!” Stan announces with a clap. 

Eddie opens his eyes to a warm smile from Stan, “Oh, Eddie, your face is a mess! Lemme just…” Stan pulls a silk handkerchief out of his shirt pocket. He dabs at Eddie’s wet cheeks, then holds it up to his nose, “Here, blow.” 

Eddie blows into the handkerchief with wide eyes. Seeing Stan’s hand holding the handkerchief is quite the anomaly. Stan, who couldn’t take a step on the bathroom floor without cringing, dealt with Eddie’s diaper, then his tears, then his snot. And the biggest peculiarity? He did it all sans prompting, hesitation, or disgust. 

Even so, Eddie still feels obligated to mumble out an “I’m sorry.” 

Stan folds up the handkerchief and slips it back in his pocket, absentmindedly answering Eddie, “It’s alright Eddie, don’t be sorry. I finally got to put all that practice to work.”

“Practice?” Eddie blurts, cocking his head to the side. As if Stan wasn’t being confusing enough. 

Realizing what he said, Stan purses his lips and shifts his focus to the ground. After seeing the ground, Stan sharply looks back up. He releases a prolonged sigh, “Well, I used to practice this kind of stuff a lot. I…” Stan sighs again, “...I wanted to be a father. For decades. Patty and I tried so hard. But it never worked out, cause of, y’know…”

Eddie nods curtly. Of course he knows. He knows that It had cursed them with the inability to have children. With all of Myra’s pleas for babies, it ended up being a blessing for Eddie. He had never considered it a curse. That is, until now. 

Stan continues, “I’m fine now, don’t get me wrong. I just, well, it would’ve been nice to have someone to care for.”

A pause follows Stan’s confession. The pause is prolonged, with Eddie frantically searching for something to say. When the threat of silence becomes apparent, Eddie finally answers. 

“You take good care of me, Stan.”

Another pause looms, but doesn’t overstay its welcome. Before it can, Stan throws his arms around Eddie and pulls him close. 

“Thank you, Eddie. That means a lot.”

Eddie finally sets his bated breath free. He hugs Stan back with a grin, “You’re welcome, Stan-Stan the Bird-Man.” 

Stan laughs, gently pulling away from the hug, “Could’ve seen that coming. Now, how about we wash our hands? I swear, this bathroom hasn’t been cleaned since you were a baby. In the physical sense, I mean.” 

“Daddy packed sanitizer!” Eddie reaches into the diaper bag and pulls out a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. 

The OCD sufferer and the recovering hypochondriac end up using the entire bottle. They help each other squirt it on, alerting the other of any crevices that need sanitization.

“Missed a spot, Stan-Stan the Bird-Man,” Eddie hums. 

Stan playfully shakes his head, “Why’s it Stan-Stan? Why not just Stan the Bird-Man?” 

“Stan-Stan the Bird-Man sounds better,” Eddie insists with a giggle. 

“Ah, I understand.” Stan replies, chuckling softly. 

As the pair leaves the restroom side by side, Eddie can’t stop smiling. He looks over at his friend, who is carrying the diaper bag over his shoulder. Eddie’s smile widens. 

Stan understands him. 

And perhaps he now understands Stan.


	4. Wednesday: Not-So-Big Bill

Eddie cannot think of anything more daunting than standing in front of Bill Denbrough’s unanswered door. All he could do is wonder why Bill isn’t answering his door, and try his best to come up with an answer. He can’t stand to leave questions unanswered. 

Stan’s key to Bill’s house ended up being a godsend for an antsy Eddie Kaspbrak. Of course, the use of said key was a last resort. Stan didn’t want to intrude on their friend, even though Eddie had rang the doorbell five minutes prior. By the second ring of the doorbell, Eddie was already shifting from foot to foot and playing with the handle of his suitcase. Unable to bear the repeating clicks as Eddie lifted and dropped the handle, Stan was forced to make the intrusion. 

Sitting in the corner of Bill’s study isn’t too much of an improvement. The episode of Rugrats playing on Stan’s phone is one he’s seen a million times. Stan shoved the phone in Eddie's hands, told him to sit and watch the episode, then left him in the corner before Eddie could make this known. Always one to do as he’s told, Eddie sits and watches the episode. But Stan never told him he has to listen to the episode. Stan also never told Eddie that he isn’t allowed to eavesdrop on his and Bill’s conversation. 

“Ahh...wuh…” A gruff voice suddenly grumbles. It’s too throaty and mumbled for Eddie to tell if it’s Bill or Stan. 

A deep sigh follows, “Oh my god, Bill, why do you keep doing this? Sleeping at your desk can’t be comfortable.”

That’s enough to reveal the owner of the first voice. As well as why he had to endure the boring wait by the door. Eddie hums to himself, satisfied with these answers. 

“Of all the nights you could pull an all nighter, why this one? Did you forget about today? About Eddie?”

Eddie’s humming is cut short by this given a new question. A question that is inarguably worse than the others. The prior inquiries were mildly annoying, sure. But they didn’t leave Eddie with a pit in his stomach and a flush across his cheeks. 

“Did you even leave this room at all yesterday,” Stan chides, “Even for a second?”

“Mmm…’course I did...I w-went to the b-bathroom…” Bill defends, his voice slowly seeming to awaken with each new word. 

Eddie clenches his fingers around Stan’s phone. He doesn’t even bother keeping his eyes on the episode, instead watching his knuckles turn white. His slim fingers grow paler and paler with every mental repetition of the new question. He curses himself for zoning out. Now, the conversation has moved on. Any possible answer has been said prior, if at all. 

The question remains unanswered. Whether or not Bill forgot him remains unanswered. A quiet groan passes Eddie’s parted lips. 

At least, Eddie thought it was quiet. 

“Here, Eddie needs attention, I can tend to him while you...erm...wake up,” Stan offers, making Eddie bite his lip to prevent additional indiscreet noises. 

Shoes slam down against the hardwood floor, “No, no, it’s f-fine, you g-go b-back home, Stan. I’ve got this.” 

Eddie’s lip bite turns to a chomp. His teeth dig deeper into the plump pink flesh when Stan pulls his phone away. This forces him to look up, revealing both men standing before him. 

“Have fun with Bill,” Stan hums, giving Eddie a pat on the head. He hugs Bill, and with that, Stan leaves Eddie alone with the unanswered question. 

“Hi, Bill…” Eddie mumbles, his head tilted up to look at the aforementioned man. He pushes himself up on his feet. Eddie has to tilt his head down to keep eye contact, which feels unnatural. He always seems to overlook Bill being shorter than him. 

“H-Hi yourself!” Bill stammers out with a smirk. He slams a hand against his head, running it down his scalp to tame his wild hair. “W-What do you wanna d-do? I don’t have anything p-planned, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Eddie answers, trying to not let himself wander back to his question. Even if Bill isn’t making it that easy for him. Needing a distraction, Eddie focuses on finding an activity for them. He scans the study for inspiration, feasting his eyes on each of Bill’s writing awards, movie posters, and paintings, until his eyes stop on the sun seeping through Bill’s ornate drapes. “Go outside?”

Bill latches onto that idea fairly quickly, “Yeah, w-we can g-go outside! Hey, there’s a creek a b-block away, wanna go th-there? We can maybe d-do some d-drawing, I’ll pack a b-bag with s-supplies.” 

“Yes please!” Eddie nods and smiles eagerly. Bill’s seeming enthusiasm provides a much-needed relief.

Unfortunately, this relief is short-lived. When Bill packs his personal writing notebook into the bag, Eddie’s mind begins to pull him away from reality. By the time they start walking to the creek, Eddie is trapped in his own mind once again. He tries to escape by focusing on something else, something outside of his thoughts. But no matter how many cherry blossoms he counts, or how well he listens to Bill talk about his new book, Eddie can’t seem to silence the question. 

Imagining that Bill forgot about him is so much easier than not. Listening to Bill talk does nothing but drive this point home. Bill has his book to write, his movie to direct, his life to live. Eddie should be thankful to even have this time with Bill. It still stings regardless, though. He’d like to think that he’s important enough, that his regressed self is important enough, for Bill to remember.

Eddie keeps his head tilted downwards to look at Bill as he talks. No matter how long he does this, it won’t feel natural. It never will. Bill shouldn’t be shorter than Eddie. Throughout their entire childhoods, Bill has been taller. He was called Big Bill for a reason. Eddie has always needed to crane his neck upwards to look Bill in the eyes. Despite being the same age, Bill looked like he could’ve been Eddie’s older brother, or even his father. 

In Eddie’s mind, Bill is still taller, tall enough to look like his older brother. Regardless of their changes over the years, looking up to Bill just seems natural. 

Their eventual arrival at the creek is a relief for Eddie. It allows him to sit down right beside Bill, and shrink himself down to his knees. Of course, the relief is once again halted by the presence of Bill’s writing journal. With each stroke of Bill’s pencil, Eddie sinks further and further into the ground. The obvious answer to Eddie’s question tightens its grip on the regressor, and threatens to drown him in the watery grass. 

In an attempt to keep himself afloat, Eddie lifts his head up to steal a glimpse of the creek. His glimpse prolongs itself into a gaze, as he follows the water’s journey down its path. It’s not at all a simple, serene path. The rocks and logs scattered about cause a continuous series of ripples, which whiten the water’s clarity. Yet, the creek never stops flowing. Frothy white and all, the water weaves its way around obstacles. 

Eddie snatches the beige canvas bag and sifts through its contents. He yanks out the wooden clipboard and charcoal pencils. Pinching the sharpest looking pencil between his fingers, Eddie glances up at his own rock: the writing journal. He weaves the pencil around the journal and taps the page with its non-sharpened end. 

Bill’s head darts up from his journal, then back down at Eddie, “Yes, Eddie?”

Eddie pulls the pencil away and taps it against the clipboard, “Draw? We were gonna draw?” 

“Oh! Oh yeah, I forgot to give you s-some pa-paper!” Bill tears a piece of lined paper out of his journal, then hands it to Eddie. “Wanna clip that up?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Eddie purrs with contentment, touched that Bill is sharing his writing journal’s paper with him. So much so, that when Bill returns to said journal, Eddie isn’t fazed. Rather, he’s determined to take advantage of Bill’s stillness. It provides the perfect opportunity to draw a picture of Bill. Eddie grins as he imagines presenting Bill the artist with an artwork of his own, portraying his very likeness. Won’t he be proud!

Unfortunately, the key word here ends up being “Won’t.” 

Eddie lets the pencil glide against the paper, drawing a circle for Bill’s head. Then he looks up at Bill. Bill’s head isn’t a circle; it’s more of a soft, inverted triangle. So instead he stares at Bill to copy his head shape. When he glances down at his paper, Eddie winces at the sight. With the pencil being left to its own device, it has created a mess of squiggles. 

With a huff, Eddie continues to draw, shifting his sight from his drawing to Bill. Every time he looks at his drawing, the drawing ends up looking less like Bill. But everytime he looks at Bill, the drawing ends up looking less like a drawing. 

Eddie decides that making the drawing somewhat conceivable is the better option, even if it won’t be an accurate portrait. He continues drawing Bill based on memory, only taking glances during short breaks. Even so, the drawing never ends up anywhere close to being, well, good. He can’t help but tighten his grip around the pencil. How dare the charcoal be jet black, making every little mistake visible with even the slightest glance? Mistakes which, Eddie insists, shouldn’t be present to begin with. 

Eddie has drawn quite a bit himself when regressed. He’s drawn more portraits of Richie than he can count. Based on this, drawing a portrait of Bill should be feasible. Then again, the only drawings Richie posts on his office walls are Eddie’s. Meanwhile, even if Bill did accept his pathetic excuse for a portrait, it wouldn’t fit on his wall. Bill’s office walls are already covered with art, much better art than Eddie could ever dream of producing. Eddie’s little sketch would be forgotten. 

The regressor flips the clipboard upside down to conceal his drawing, then slams it down on the grass, “Don’t like drawing.”

A chortle immediately follows the quip, “You and every a-artist out th-there!” 

Eddie blushes and turns to Bill, whose journal falls on his lap as he laughs, “Oh d-don’t worry Eddie, d-drawing isn’t everyone’s thing. There’s other st-stuff you can do with p-paper.” He tears another page out of his notebook, “H-How about origami?”

“Origami?” Eddie runs his fingers up the edge of the paper. 

“Mhm! Like, folding p-paper into cool sh-shapes. Like...oh! P-Paper airplanes! You’re g-good at th-those.” 

Just like that, Eddie’s grin returns. He is good at those! He’d been good at those since his preteen years, when Bill himself taught him. All those years of sitting at a desk with a faraway wastebasket have provided him with plenty of practice. At last, Eddie has been granted with the means to impress his friend, through folding paper airplanes. 

And so, fold paper airplanes he shall. Lengthwise fold, corner to crease fold, downward fold, corner fold, corner fold again, lengthwise fold again, accordion fold, and viola! A perfect paper airplane, if Eddie does say so himself. Dare he even say, a notable paper airplane. 

For the final test, Eddie lightly flings the paper airplane towards the opposite side of the creek. The light breeze picks up the plane, carrying it through the air in a swift glide. The petite man can’t help but squeal and clap as his plane remains in a perfectly straight line. 

His squeals only heighten when a new round of applause joins his own, “Wow, that’s a great p-plane, Eddie! 

“Thanks!” Eddie whips his head around to look at Bill, only to find him writing once again. He glumly turns his head back to his plane, no longer seeing it in the air. Eddie has to tilt his head down to finally lay eyes on his paper aircraft, only to find it sinking in the creek. Whining and pouting, Eddie looks towards his lap, on which a piece of paper has mysteriously appeared. Bill must’ve given him another one. Looking back and forth between the paper and the creek, Eddie perks up at the thought of a new idea. 

Bill may already know about his knack for folding paper planes. However, Eddie’s friend is quite oblivious to his other origami forte: folding paper boats. His daddy showed him how to craft these, teaching Eddie the right way to fold them so they float in their bathtub. If they float in a bathtub, they’ll float in the creek for sure! 

Eddie has never folded a paper boat with such intensity. He isn’t sure if he’s intensely folded anything before, to be frank. Yet, Eddie’s eyes squint and tongue slips out as he curls and creases the paper. This boat has to float; it’s Eddie’s only hope. 

After a timid tiptoe towards the rushing creek, Eddie lowers the paper boat into the frothy water. The slight rapids slowly push the boat along the creek, keeping it right side up throughout. With a whoop and holler, Eddie jumps and claps at his accomplishment, “It floats! It floats!” 

The boat continues its sail down the creek, with Eddie skipping along the grass beside it. He giggles and cheers as his creation navigates the path. Without even noticing, Eddie comes up with a little sing-song, “Boat, boat, it's a boat that can float...float, float, float…” 

His steps lighten with each little lyric. They lighten enough to lift him from this world, and enter his own. In Eddie’s own little world, Bill isn’t present. His neck doesn’t have to ache from being craned to look up. 

Suddenly, a loud sob yanks Eddie back down to the grass. His poor neck crains once again as he looks behind him. Bill’s writing journal isn’t even on his person, having been put aside, just as Eddie wanted. However, Eddie didn’t want this to be coupled with tears rushing down crimson cheeks. Cheeks which are rarely stained by tears, as they are saved for moments of true distress. 

“Billy!” Eddie dashes back to his friend. Bill curls in on himself, which further shrinks his size. The regressor whines ever so slightly as he’s forced to glance downwards, “Billy...what’s wrong?” 

Bill squeaks out a tiny hiccup, “D-D-Don’t w-worry ab-bout i-it, Ed-d-die...I-I-I…” 

Eddie lets out a little squeak of his own from hearing Bill’s stutter. Bill may be a chronic stutterer, but he doesn’t stammer out every single world in a sentence.

“...I s-saw y-y-you w-with th-the b-b-boat...rem-m-inded m-me…” Bill hiccups again, “...G-Georgie.”

That’s when Eddie’s heart stops. Bill’s tears may be rare, but their triggers remain consistent. And Eddie just pulled the biggest trigger of them all. His whole body tenses up; how could he have been so stupid? The answer to this question is mercifully clear: his regression made him stupid. 

Regressing makes him be carefree, and being too carefree makes him stupid. It’s an inevitable outcome that can’t be repressed, regardless of Eddie’s desire to avoid stupidity in front of Bill. After all, stupidity is looked down upon. Bill is going to look down on him now, and Eddie certainly won’t blame him. 

“Eee...Eee-eee-ooo...” Bill forces out, attempting to form at least one coherent word. He takes a deep breath and starts over, only to fail once again. All Bill can produce are sounds that start, stop, and stumble over each other. 

Eddie throws himself onto his knees, matching Bill’s level. Bill is still smaller than him due to his position, but Eddie doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t notice until the smaller man is in his arms, leaning into the hug Eddie had suddenly thrust upon him. Bill curls himself up to purposely make himself smaller, another rarity for the regressor to behold. 

“Billy…’m sorry…” Eddie murmurs, “...so, so sorry…shouldn’t’ve...the...the boat...don’t...please don’t...forget about me...”

Bill only responds with more choking stutters. Eddie whips his head away from Bill to spare them both from shame. His eyes end up falling on the discarded journal, laying closed with a stubby pencil atop its cover. That’s when he remembers Bill’s favored form of communication, a form in which every single word comes out as crisp and clear as the flowing creek. 

As if it’s made of glass, Eddie lifts the journal and grips it in both hands. His eyes remain on the rectangular patch of flattened grass, crushed by the heavy book that once sat atop of it. They don’t leave the patch as Eddie plops the journal onto Bill’s lap with a mumble, “Wanna write it?”

Eddie sneaks a glance at the notebook, relieved to see it being used. He spots the word “you,” which Eddie concludes must have been the word Bill was trying to say. Bill’s pencil stops at this word. When Eddie finally looks away, the scratching of pencil against paper finally resumes. The next pause of the sound is followed by a tap on the shoulder, which makes Eddie reflexively turn around. Bill hands Eddie the journal, then it’s his turn to avoid eye contact. He too is unable to face the other man as the journal is read. 

You didn’t just remind me of Georgie because of the paper boat. Watching you play and sing with the boat, seeing you so happy when it floated, was kind of like watching Georgie. It was just as cute, for sure. But the resemblance only grew stronger when you wandered further and further away. I tried calling you, but you must’ve not heard me. I started to worry that you’d run off too far, that you’d get lost or hurt or something. And I would have been able to prevent it, if I had gone with you instead of staying in place. It’s stupid, I know, but thanks for letting me share this with you. Would you be okay sharing something with me? You said “don’t forget me,” what do you mean? 

Eddie reads each sentence word by world, and each word letter by letter, one, twice, thrice over. As he reads, Eddie can feel Bill’s hands rest gently on his neck, guiding it downwards. Guiding it towards the teary eyes of a Not-So-Big Bill. 

Perhaps Eddie would be okay sharing something with Not-So-Big Bill. 

“Worried that you forgot ‘bout me. You...sleeping...sleeping when I came. Then, you didn’t play with me...just write. So, you forgot ‘bout me. Or will forget…”

The words fall out of Eddie’s mouth haphazardly. Not-So-Big Bill doesn’t seem like the type to require an expertly crafted verbal prose. 

“ …’cause I’m not important...or ‘cause you didn’t wanna ‘member…”

The not-so-big arms of Not-So-Big Bill cut Eddie off with a gasp. They curl tightly around the slightly taller man as Bill rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie leans his cheek against Bill’s temple and parts his lips ever so slightly. 

Bill parts his own to finally speak up, “I’m so fucking st-stupid. I st-stayed up super late to f-finish a r-rough draft so I wouldn’t h-have to work on it t-today when you c-came. S-So now I have an unf-finished draft a-and exhaustion. I th-thought that you’d be f-fine playing at the c-creek while I worked...E-Eddie, I-I’m s-sorry I was t-too stupid to ask you th-that. I’m s-sorry I got too l-lost in my own st-stupid little world to notice y-you were getting upset. I’m so sorry f-for being so f-fucking stupid.”

Eddie gently pulls away from the hug to show Bill his smile. It’s a smile of relief, as Eddie’s questions are alleviated with reasonable answers. His eyes, however, are still busy processing this Bill in front of him. 

This Bill, who fears irrationally due to his past. This Bill, who laments over his stupidity. This Bill, who needs hugs and reassurance. This Bill, who actually shares a hell of a lot of commonalities with little Eddie. 

This Bill, who is indeed not so big anymore. 

“...but I’m not s-stupid enough to forget you. Y-You...you’re so imp-portant. You-were there for m-me when G-G-G...when I l-lost him. You s-slept on my bedroom f-floor for a w-week after to h-help me feel less al-alone. A-And you did. You helped...you help. You h-help me, you help yourself, l-like with the age r-regression th-thing...I dunno...I just wish I c-could h-help like you.” 

Eddie blinks, and when he opens his eyes, they rest casually on the man in front of him. He watches Bill flick away his remaining tear streaks, then wipe his nose with the back of his wrist. Not-So-Big Bill is here to stay, and Eddie’s happily keeping him. Of course, not-so-big doesn’t mean not-big-at-all; looking up to Bill will always remain natural to Eddie. But craning his neck until it cracks won’t be. 

So, Eddie turns to grab his abandoned clipboard. He tears off the discarded drawing and folds it up, presenting it to Bill with a squeaky squeal, “Look, Billy! It’s a paper boat with you on it!” He blushes, “Can’t draw perfect stuff like you...but tried!”

It’s not the articulate response deserved by an articulate confession, but Not-So-Big Bill seems more than satisfied with it. He grins and takes the boat into his cupped hands, “It is p-perfect st-stuff! Th-Thank you so m-much!” Bill looks towards the creek, then bashfully back at Eddie, “C-Can we f-float it on the c-creek tog-gether?”

The walk along the creek is vastly different from the walk to the creek. Eddie skips along the grass as Bill, listening to him coo that this experience is as cute and fun as he’d imagined it to be. Of course, Eddie responds by telling him that Bill is the one helping him feel cute and have fun. Eddie watches the boat float along the creek. As the two walk further and further, less rocks and branches seem to be littering the crisp creek. The rapids have vanished, allowing the little boat to float along smoothly. When he is not looking at the creek, Eddie is looking at Bill. Not up, not down, but at Not-So-Big Bill, who is always looking back at him in return.


	5. Thursday: Benny the Blue Bunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is dedicated to AO3 user MusicalProstituteMyDear! She has been incredibly supportive of me and this story, and I am very grateful. Go check out her amazing age regression fanfictions. She writes for a lot of fandoms, including It! :)

“Careful w-with that bunny,” Bill chides, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him, “She’s gonna f-fall out the w-window.”

“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posey,” is all Eddie responds with. 

He could be “careful with that bunny,” but watching “that bunny” dance across the car windowsill is much more fun. Especially when he sings Ring Around the Rosie, which Richie insists is definitely not about the black death or anything illness-related, regardless of what those stupid-shitty-meanie articles say. 

“...ashes, ashes, we all fa-ahh!” 

The car runs over a sharp pothole, briefly loosening Eddie’s fingers. He swiftly clenches his fist around Silky’s head before she can slip onto the busy street. 

“Wow, th-that was a b-big one,” Bill hums with a sigh, “You okay, Eddie?”

“Mhm!” Eddie tightens his grip on Silky, “Silky almost fell, but I saved her!”

“W-Well that’s g-good. But be careful with your b-bunny.” Bill murmurs simply, too busy examining the road to lecture Eddie further. He doesn’t notice that his phrase is a regurgitation of his prior ineffective one. However, neither does Eddie. 

This time, Silky isn’t “that bunny,” just another stuffed animal in Eddie’s massive collection. Silky is “your bunny.” She’s the stuffed animal Eddie hugged during his first time being diapered and teams up with to win games against Richie and totes around so she won’t feel lonely. She’s his bunny. 

His bunny, who he cares for through his status as the clearer thinker. His bunny, who cares for him through her soft hugs and playful innocence. He can’t think of anything worse than something bad happening to his bunny. Other than something bad happening to his bunny because of him. 

For the remainder of the car ride, the window is closed and Silky is in Eddie’s arms. As soon as the car pulls into Ben and Beverly’s parking lot, their front door swings right open. Ben and Beverly bolt right through the cleanly mowed front lawn with their arms wide open for hugs. Their rambunctious German Shepherd skids right behind them, barking at the sudden presence of new arrivals.

Eddie rushes out of the car and drops Silky on the floor. After all, he needs his arms available to return the hugs. The three remain in their group embrace as Bill takes Eddie’s suitcase out of the trunk, bids them farewell, and drives away. 

When the hug breaks up, Ben goes to retrieve Eddie’s suitcase, leaving him with Beverly. 

“How are you?” Beverly excitedly shakes Eddie’s wrists, “I love your outfit! I wonder who designed it, hmm?” 

“You did!” Eddie squeals, bouncing on his toes. He looks down at his light grey shirt and pink elbow-length sleeved button-up, both Beverly Hanscom originals. He was hoping she would notice!

“Heck yeah I did!” She crosses and uncrosses their arms, “I have a whole bunch of outfits for you to try on! But that’s for tomorrow, Ben gets you today!” 

Beverly lets go of Eddie’s wrists,“Ben! What activities do you have planned for Eddie today?” She runs up to Ben and motions for Eddie to come with her. Eddie, however, stays planted in place. 

The sudden weight in his gut restricts him from moving one step.

For whatever reason, he can’t help but feel like he’s forgotten something. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling, which his daddy would wave off with a “don’t worry Eds, everything’s fine!” 

“Well Eddie, we can pretty much do anything you want!” Ben strides over to Eddie with his wife by his side, “We can watch movies, draw pictures, play around with Bev’s old makeup, that is if she doesn’t already have that planned for her day…” 

Eddie takes a deep breath, offering them a smile. Albeit slightly shaky, the smile is genuine. His anxious gut always seems to be wrong. So why would it be right today? Eddie is going to have a fun day with Ben, and that’s that. Everything’s fine.

“...and I’m sure Ember would love a run around the backyard. We can play fetch with her tennis ball, it’s the only toy of hers she can’t destroy.” Ben links arms with Bev and chuckles, glancing at his dog, “Looks like she’s got her next victim!” 

Eddie pivots around to look at the German Shepherd. Her razor-sharp canines sink into a mound of pink fur. She harshly swings her head side to side with a growl, the pink mound clenched in her mouth. Eddie’s heart sinks to his gut. His heart is begging for his gut to be wrong, but his gut is adamant. 

Suddenly, Ember runs right past the trio, pink mound in tow. And just like that, Eddie’s heart drops to his toe. His gut sneers at his sinking heart, giving it a cocky little “I told you so.” Eddie’s hands clamp over his gut with a quiet gasp, as if to shut it up. 

Neither Ben nor Bev are looking at Eddie. Instead, they are watching their crazy dog with hearty belly laughs. Ben rests his arm on his wife’s shoulder, “Oh, that poor chew toy! We’ve really gotta stop buying her those.” 

Eddie’s face turns as pink as Ember’s next victim. How could they laugh at this? It’s not funny! Sure, if it was a random chew toy being destroyed, perhaps it would be quite humorous. 

But, “That’s not a chew toy!” Eddie shrieks, “She’s not a chew toy!” 

No, Eddie thinks, he was right the first time. He had definitely, unequivocally, without a shadow of a doubt, just treated his precious Silky as a “that.” And now he has to live with, well, that. 

It takes both Ben and Beverly’s efforts combined to pry Silky away from Ember’s toothy grasp. Ben holds the massive dog on his lap as Beverly forces her mouth open, all the while chastising Ember for her bad behavior. Every single utterance of “bad girl” and “you’re getting a time-out in the living room” is a punch to Eddie’s vindicated, bragging gut. 

After all, it’s not Ember’s fault. Nor is it Ben’s or Bev’s. Silky isn’t any of theirs. Like Bill said, Silky is his bunny. And Eddie just let his bunny down. 

Suddenly, a realization hits Eddie in the face, paling it to an icy white. He didn’t just let his bunny down; he let his daddy down. Richie was the one who gifted him the stuffed animal. He sleeps with it per Eddie’s request, so it will smell like him. Richie is going to ask about it sometime when he comes back, and Eddie will have to explain what happened.

Will Richie show any anger, sadness, or even disappointment over the bunny mauling? Of course not; he’ll probably just make a joke about Easter being ruined and that will be that. If Eddie’s being completely honest, though, this is exponentially worse. 

Richie’s mouth would say the usual “There’s my favorite baby, my sweet lil’ Eddie Spaghetti!” But for all Eddie knows, his thoughts could say “There’s the dumbass who let the bunny I gave him get mauled by a dog, the little jerk who made me sleep with a bunny he didn’t care to protect. He didn’t care. He doesn’t care…”

Finally, the two babysitters push themselves up to their feet. Bev whistles and leads Ember into the house, stuffed bunny carcass in tow. Eddie squints to try and get a better look at Silky’s damage, until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He yelps and jumps back from the touch. 

“Oh, sorry!” Ben exclaims, “Didn’t mean to surprise you like that! I’m sorry!” 

Eddie turns to Ben and forces a small smile, “It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

“No, really, I’m so sorry Eddie. I’m so, so sorry,” Ben sighs. 

“It’s okay Ben,” Eddie shakes his head, “Didn’t mean to surprise,” he adds. Even though both men know all-too-well what this is really about.

Ben reaches a brawny arm up to rub the back of his neck, “Look, I was thinking...maybe we could go to a toy store. We can look around, maybe play with some of the sample displays...what do you think? Does that sound alright? We can do something else if you don’t like the idea...”

“Yeah!” Eddie squeaks out before Ben can ramble any longer, “Sounds fun!” A trip to the toy store seems like a decent distraction. And god knows both of them probably need one. 

As soon as the car pulls out of the driveway, Eddie rests his head against the window with a groan. The same exact thoughts from before keep on playing and replaying in his head, coming closer and closer to pulling him out of his headspace. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?” Eddie grits his teeth as he tries to fight away the thoughts; he doesn’t want to be big. Being big will only make everything worse. 

“Are you okay if I ask you a random question?” Ben asks, his voice soft and gentle.

Yes, please ask him a question. Ask him any question, anything else for his racing, swirling mind to focus on. Eddie forces a single nod, “Okay.”

“Did Richie suggest age regression to you? Like, did he come to you asking to be your caregiver? Or did you ask him?” 

Eddie cocks a brow. That really is a random question. He haphazardly shrugs, “I asked him.” 

“Oh…” Ben’s eyebrows furrow even closer, “That’s cool.” 

The regressor’s shoulder slump back down. Eddie knows he shouldn’t be reading too much into these sorts of little cues, he can almost hear Richie whispering this in his ear, but he can’t help it. 

Ben’s face isn’t saying that’s cool. It’s almost saying, “That’s bad?” 

Eddie chomps down on his lip the second the words fly out, as if to re-trap them. But it’s a thankless effort; they’ve already escaped from the clutches of Eddie’s mouth, into the oasis of Ben’s ear. 

“No, no it’s not bad. Not at all, it’s great that you told Richie,” Ben rambles profusely, “I’m sorry. I promise I don’t think it’s bad. I guess I was just wondering if someone’s ever suggested age regression, but as a caregiver. You know what I mean?” 

Eddie shakes his head with a small groan. He doesn’t know what Ben means. He feels like he should, but he doesn’t.

“The light’s red! Let’s put on some music!” Ben snatches his phone and frantically scrolls to Spotify. “What kind of music do you like?”

Eddie perks up, liking this question a lot better than the last one. He answers with absolutely no hesitation, “Cinderella!” 

Ben’s face seems to slightly soften, “Oh, the Cinderella soundtrack! That’s a good one!”

“Love Cinderella!” Eddie squeals, lightly clapping his hands. 

“Aww, really? So does Beverly! She told me the other day, it’s one of her favorite movies!” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, “Really?”

“Really,” Ben nods in confirmation. 

“Wow,” Eddie squeezes his hands together, “We’re the same!” 

“Yeah…” Ben’s voice trails off, having to continue driving before he can play the music. His hands grip tighter onto the steering wheel. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong Eddie…” Ben begins. But he cuts himself off with a sigh of defeat. He opens and closes his mouth, as if to contemplate whether he should release his words. 

Then, it opens for good, “You and Beverly really do have a lot in common…more than I’ll ever fully understand, if I’m being honest. I know I should be thankful that I can’t understand, but I wish I could. I really wish I could. For her sake.” Ben’s voice cracks slightly as the last sentence. 

Eddie tilts his chin down and locks his eyes on his lap. He fruitlessly tries to think of something, anything, he can say. 

“But you can,” Ben mercifully continues, “You had a similar past. And I see you coping with it by regressing, and, well…” He swallows a lump in his throat, “...maybe the similarities can continue.” 

It takes Eddie a few seconds to understand Ben’s words. But the second he does, a piercing squeal rings all throughout the car. 

“Bev can regress!” Eddie bounces in his seat, his head barely evading the ceiling, “She can regress! An’ you be the caregiver! An’ she can play with me!” 

Ben chuckles softly, “Well, I don’t want to push her into it,” He hesitates, although his smile returns shortly after, “But I would like to ask her.”

Suddenly, the car stops at another red light. Ben picks his phone up once again, “There we go, now I can play the music.” He clicks on the Cinderella soundtrack, then goes back to driving with a soft hum. 

Eddie rests his head on the window once again, this time with a massive grin, allowing “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” to wash over his thoughts. 

When they arrive at the toy store, Eddie’s step has regained it’s spring. However, as soon as Ben opens the door, the spring turns into a dash. The toy store is enormous; it probably has every single toy known to man in its stock! 

A hand then grazes Eddie’s shoulder, sliding his feet to a halt, “Eddie, look at this!”

Eddie blinks and does as he’s told. “This” turns out to be a small table littered with toy cars and racetrack pieces. The table is adorned with a sign, reading “Sample Play Display- Enjoy! Do not remove pieces from the table.”

“Let’s go play with the cars, yeah? I know how much you love cars.”

With that, Eddie sprints right to the playset. The playset itself doesn’t warrant too much of a sprint; Eddie has plenty of cars at home. Ben knowing how much Eddie loves cars, however, does. 

Eddie plops himself down and pats the floor next to him, “Saved you a seat!” 

With no one else present, there’s no need to save a seat. But Ben’s warm smile and enthusiastic “Thank you so much! That’s really nice of you!” beat the thought to Eddie’s mind. 

Ben gathers some racetrack pieces while Eddie sifts through the cars. He gasps at a sudden lucky find, which he seizes immediately. It’s a pink car, and a very bright pink car at that. Eddie’s always wanted a bright pink car. And that’s not even the best part! 

“It looks like a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT!” 

“Woah!” 

Eddie lets out a little eep and drops the car at the sudden remark. Ben chuckles softly, “Sorry Eddie, I’m just impressed. You’re a little car expert!”

“‘M not,” Eddie shakes his head, trying to fight back a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah you are! If you asked me what that car looked like, you know what I would have said?”

“What?”

Ben takes a deep breath, as if he’s about to deliver his magnum opus.

“A car!”

This sends both men into peals of laughter. Eddie leans his weight against Ben with a wheeze, unable to prop himself back up. 

“See,” Ben forces out between laughs, “You are a car expert!” 

Through his heavy wheezing, Eddie flashes a proud grin. Perhaps he is!

Once the two men calm down, Ben gestures to the table, “Here, can you tell me what types of real cars the other ones look like?”

Ben doesn’t have to ask him twice! Eddie immediately lunges into the table and gathers all the cars in his arms. One by one, Eddie picks them up and tells Ben what model of what car in what year they resemble. 

Each car is picked up with more vigor and elation than the last. 

Each car is also picked up with the expectation it would be the last. 

There’s only so much car expertise one can take, Eddie imagines. Ben has to get tired of this eventually; Eddie is simply waiting for when the time comes. 

This simple wait proves to be more and more of a futile effort with each and every car. Ben doesn’t seem interested in stopping Eddie. He does, however, seem interested in all the cars Eddie talks about, remarking on how cool they look and asking questions about the models. Questions which Eddie is quick and eager to answer. With his eyes kept on the cars, Eddie doesn’t notice Ben’s hands exploring the table and connecting racetrack pieces.

“...an’ this one’s like a Jaguar XKSS! Saved it for last ‘cause it’s best!”

“Oh yeah? Even better than the pink one?” Ben tests. 

Eddie hums, cocking his head to each side. He lets out a humph, “Didn’t mean that!” 

Ben laughs softly, handing Eddie the pink car, “Well, you can run both of them on my racetrack, if you’d like. I built it for you.”

Eddie finally lifts his head up to steal a glimpse of Ben’s racetrack. That single glimpse is enough to make Eddie’s jaw drop all the way down to his lap.

“Do you like it, Eddie?” Ben asks, twiddling a lone track piece in his fingers. 

“I love it!” Eddie blurts out. He shifts closer to the racetrack so he can admire it in all its elaborate, twist-and-turn beauty. 

“Great!” Ben picks up the car closest to him, “Let’s race?”

“Let’s race!” 

Eddie skids the pink cars across the length of the racetrack. Ben somehow managed to build it to run smoothly whilst maintaining its sharp twists; it’s like magic! The magic of an architecture degree, to be more specific, but still magic to Eddie nonetheless. The two men hoot and holler as they race car after car, indulging in this perfect fusion of their respective passions.

Suddenly, the “Do not remove pieces from the table” sign is becoming quite the liability. 

“Wish I had this at home,” Eddie hums to Ben, driving his car through the final turn before the track’s end. 

Ben reaches for a new car to race, “I can give you the address to the toy store, if you’d like. Then you can come back with Richie.” 

A chill runs up Eddie’s spine, making his hands tremble. His slippery fingers let go of the car, skidding it to a stop right before the end of the track. “I...I…”

“Eddie!” Ben draws himself away from the table and turns to Eddie, “What’s wrong?” 

“I...” Eddie hiccups, “I can’t...can’t c’mere with Daddy…” The thick tears he’d been fighting throughout the day finally win, flooding down his reddening cheeks “No more toys...ruined...ruined my toy…” 

It doesn’t even take a second for Ben to understand. “Oh Eddie…” he sighs, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Ben holds out an arm, “Do you want a hug?”

Eddie shakes his head with a whimper. Does he want a hug? Absolutely. He wraps his arms around himself. Does he deserve a hug? Absolutely not. So this pathetic hug simulation is all he gets. 

Ben pulls his arm back, “I understand. Would you like me to give you some space? I can take a walk around the store myself and come check on you later.” 

A singular nod with a begging glance is all Eddie can muster in response. 

“Okay, I’ll be back,” Ben rubs Eddie’s arm before pushing himself up to his feet. “I’m so, so, so, sorry…” 

Before he’s too far away to be completely inaudible, Eddie hears Ben mutter to himself under his breath. “Oh god…” The aforementioned breath takes a deep exhale, then produces one last phrase. 

“...I’m a horrible caregiver.” 

Eddie’s quickening breath is suddenly cut with a gasp. 

Ben is not a horrible caregiver. Ben is not a horrible anything, but a caregiver especially. Ben shouldn’t be thinking that. He can’t be thinking that, not on Eddie’s watch. Eddie should run up to him and tell him otherwise. 

But besides a simple “no you’re not,” what would Eddie tell him? A “no you’re not” would be followed by a “why,” and Eddie doesn’t have a “why.” Eddie’s not a caregiver. He doesn’t know anything about the caregiving experience, much less enough to determine one’s qualifications. For all he knows, Ben could be a horrible caregiver. 

Still, it doesn’t seem like he is. All he did was make a little comment. A comment that he couldn’t have known would receive a harsh reaction. And what else? Let his dog chew up Silky? It’s not like he handed the bunny to Ember, shoving it in her mouth and telling her go ham. 

No one did. 

Including Eddie. 

Eddie unravels his arms to wipe his tears away. He pushes himself up to his feet to wait for Ben’s return, to give him the “why.”

And when Ben approaches, Eddie does just that, “I’m Silky!” 

“You’re Silky?” Ben stops in front of the table, shifting a newly-acquired brown bag to his elbow. He places his freed hand on his hip, “Why?” 

Eddie shrinks in his stance, not expecting his “why” to create more “whys.” 

“‘Cause we need care,” Eddie blurts out, “An’ we get care, from people we love. Who make mistakes, but ‘s okay. Cause we love ‘em a lot. Enough to forgive.”

Eddie turns to Ben, expecting nothing more but the same confusion. Ben, however, doesn’t deliver. The massive grin on his face prevents him from doing so. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I guess you are like your bunny.”

His bunny, who he cares for through his status as the clearer thinker. 

“Mhm! ‘M just like Silky! An’ Bev is like me! So Bev is like Silky too!” 

It’s pretty much impossible for Ben’s grin to grow any longer that it’s become. His lack of a verbal response is irrelevant, Eddie knows that he’s given a sufficient “why.” 

So, he tugs on Ben’s sleeve to ask him a question, “If Bev made a mistake, you forgive her?” 

“Absolutely,” Ben responds immediately, without a millisecond of hesitation. “If your bunny did something bad, would you forgive her?” 

His bunny, who cares for him through her soft hugs and playful innocence. 

Eddie nods his head, also with no contemplation. 

He can’t think of anything worse than something bad happening to his bunny. Other than something bad happening to his bunny because of him. But if this does happen, it’s okay.

“Because you love her a lot, right?” Ben quizzes, “Enough to forgive?” 

Eddie nods again, with a grin that matches Ben’s. 

“There you go,” Ben responds, before holding the brown bag out to Eddie, “Anyways, while I was walking around, I did some shopping.”

Eddie pulls the brown bag off the crook of Ben’s shoulder. He reaches into the bag and pulls out its contents. Immediately, his mouth gawks open. 

“Do you like it? If you don’t, we can exchange it…”

“It’s a blue Silky!” Eddie squeals, hugging the stuffed animal to his chest. The soft bunny looks exactly like Silky, save for its pastel blue fur. “I love it!” 

“I’m glad!” Ben chuckles, “Do you wanna pick a name for it?”

Eddie doesn’t even need to think for more than a second. “Benny!” He announces triumphantly, “Benny the Blue Bunny!” 

Somehow, it is possible for Ben’s grin to grow even more. If it grew any wider, it would be touching the folds of his eyes. Both men’s grins stay in place throughout the entire car ride back to the Hanscom house. 

As soon as the men step back into said house, Beverly immediately rushes into the vestibule, “Eddie! Ben! Guess what? The patient has made a full recovery!” 

She holds up Silky, looking good as new with her rips sewn by pink thread, save for one detail. A line of red thread goes down her chest, leaving a scar. Just like the one that goes down Eddie's thanks to Pennywise, a symbol of his survival. 

Like the first time he saw her, the bunny is in Eddie’s arms immediately after she is presented. He hugs her tightly against his chest, where he bears the exact same scar. Eddie turns Silky around to see her back, revealing another matching scar. He squeals as he runs his fingers over it.

“Aww, I’m so happy you love her!” Beverly gushes, “I can’t take credit for the scar idea, though, that was all Ben! He thought you’d like it if Silky was like you!” 

“More like you, anyways,” Ben adds with a wink. 

Eddie winks back, then jumps into Ben’s arms for a hug. Ben doesn’t only hug Eddie, but the bunnies as well, putting an arm around them so they’re included. 

He then notices Beverly watching them, donning a soft smile. Eddie pulls her into the hug with a squeal. He watches her immediately snuggle up to Ben, who reacts by lifting her up in one arm, making her giggle. 

Eddie pulls back from the hug so he can watch them and swoon. He doesn’t know if Beverly will want to regress. But if she does, Eddie can positively, confidently say that she will be in good hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Go follow me on Tumblr @babybloowrites
> 
> I love to chat and roleplay so don't feel shy about messaging me! Thanks for reading my story! :)


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